The Curious Case of the Lost Shoes (Role Playing Game)
by fionadaydreamer
Summary: Interesting what a pair of lost shoes can lead in a specific case for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. A lot of trouble and misunderstanding! (This story started out as a role play game via Facebook and Skype. Although not complete yet, my friend Loki94 and I have decided to publish it. My friend wrote out of the perspective of Watson while I did Holmes, they're separted by lines.)
1. Chapter 1

Even though the sun was shining in the Bakerstreet 221, it was a chilly day in October. Brown, yellow, orange and red leaves were falling from the trees and were covering the paviour. I was sitting in the living room and was reading the newspaper, when I heard a loud explosion in the first room. 'Dear god, what has my friend done again?'. I thought worriedly. I threw down my newspaper and ran up the stairs. I walked to Holmes' room and threw open the door, without even knocking. I was too concerned for the health of my dear old friend. When I entered the room I stopped dead in my tracks. "Holmes, what in the Queens name are you doing?", I asked incredulous.

* * *

From Watson's tone and his expression I knew he is concerned about me, truly a loyal companion. "Why as you can see testing an experiment, my dear Watson."

"An experiment in the dark? Holmes! I can barely see what is going on here!" Called Watson not amused. Soon he found the window, he pushed aside the thick curtains and opened the window. He gave a short cough. I lit a Turkish cigarette and puffed peacefully, knowing Watson will bring out again his words of concern about me. I blew out the Bunsen burner and made myself comfortable on my chair.

* * *

I crossed my arms before my chest and asked: "What happened in here and what is this green fluid that is covering half of the ceiling?" I cockle my brows and think: 'Doesn't he understand how dangerous these experiments are. Especially, when he is working in the dark. I'm really worried about him.'

* * *

"Watson, your deduction for the obvious has failed! As I said before, testing an experiment." I sighed, took a brief draw of the cigarette. "This green substance wasn't green before. Due to the explosion I've detected that the substance is combined with chlorophyll, ethane, liquid hydrogen and some other substance. Now that the ethane and liquid hydrogen are gone and the chlorophyll holds with the other, I shall know soon what it exactly is." I explained to Watson calmly. Looking at times to Watson and up to the ceiling. That other substance is very flexible and sticky, not a delightful sight but bright green as a leaf in spring.

* * *

I looked at Holmes, mystified. 'Why would someone conduct an experiment, if he doesn't know what results he awaits? Perhaps he's bored, because we don't have any case at the moment. London is quite peacefully and if that's the case Holmes always becomes a little bit reckless, because he gets bored out of his mind. I sigh and pleaded: "Just be careful, dear friend. I don't want to treat you because you were reckless. You are a brilliant man and you ought to take care of yourself. It would be a shame to lose such a brilliant man." I walked towards Holmes to sit down next to him, but sadly I missed how a bit of the greenish liquid fell onto the floor and stepped right onto it. I inevitably slipped and lost my balance. My eyes widen in shock and I looked in Sherlock's piercing blue eyes that seem to know all the secrets in the universe. "Holmes!", I shouted helplessly, while I was falling towards the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Immediately I threw a cushion towards Watson, aiming under the head. I was hoping he wouldn't step on the greenish substance, alas he did. Thankfully to my quick-witted reaction with the cushion Watson had a soft landing. I began to grin broadly as Watson picked himself up. "Speaking of taking care of me, do not forget about yourself in the first place my dear Watson."

Suddenly there was a knocking from the main door of our flat. In the distance I heard Mrs. Hudson answering the door she gave a short cry. 'Hullo? This unknown guest is eager to consult us. Due to the sound of the steps a man with heavy boots and perhaps due to the out cry of Mrs. Hudson with a special appearance.'

* * *

I closed my eyes and awaited a painful landing; luckily I fell on something soft. I blinked a few times and sat up. My face landed directly on a cushion that prevented me to get hurt. I looked around the room to find out where it came from. When I saw Holmes' broad grin I got my suspicion where the pillow was from. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw a second cushion in the same colour on the armchair Holmes was momentarily sitting on. I wanted to complain for his disrespectful, very smart act but I just couldn't when I saw his smile. It was so warm and rare that I didn't dare to say something fearing to see that smile fade away. When I heard Holmes' comment I shrugged and answered teasingly: "I don't need any lesson from such a reckless person as yourself, Mr. great detective." Before Holmes could answer, I heard a knocking at the door. 'A client?', I wondered. I studied my friend and saw how his face illuminated itself at the prospect of a new case. I shook my head. 'Some things just never change.' I heard the sound of heavy boots and try to find as much information out on my own. I wanted to impress Holmes, who had titled his head to better listener. "I think it's a man", I told him, even though I knew he already knew that. That's why I was so surprised when the door opened itself and a burly, young woman entered the room. She wore huge black boots and a pair of brown trousers. The white blouse she was wearing was covered in grease. Her dark, short hair was sticking to her from the sun-tanned face. I heard a gasp next to me and looked in the direction of the sound. It seems that I wasn't the only one that expected a man and not a woman. Holmes was looking at the woman with huge, wary eyes as if he was expecting that she would turn into a man before our eyes. That idea was ridiculously entertaining, but I couldn't help myself. The uncomfortable silence was stretching itself. Nobody knew what to say and nobody dared to move.

* * *

Special appearance… A woman? Quickly I collected and cleared my throat, interrupting the awkward silence. "Pardon me for this inconvenient."

Abruptly I pulled Watson at his sleeve out of my room while I straightened myself by removing my experiment coat and threw it to one corner of the room. Finished the cigarette brushed my hair and entered the room. Prepared to hear an interesting case, which I hope she brings.

* * *

Suddenly, everything happened very quickly. Holmes pulled me out of the room and readied himself for the case. We entered the room again and the woman was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the messy room. "Take a seat, please. We will listen to your problem", I told her gently.

"Aye, but before that I have a question, mate. What happened in here?", she asked incredulously with a thin Scottish accent.

A strained smile appeared on my lips and I explained: "Believe me, you don't want to know Madame."

She squinted her eyes, but a few seconds later she sat down on the opposite of us. "It all started about three weeks ago. My brother got these similar pair of boots that I'm wearing at the moment. When I asked him where they were from, he said he didn't know. He got a parcel and they were in there, but there wasn't any address written. My brother chose to keep the boots and three weeks later he mysteriously died."

"Mam, I don't want to sound rude, but what role do the boots play?", I asked. It just didn't make any sense to me.

"Everything, lass! My brother left the house with the boots, but when they found his body in an alley he was barefoot."

I looked at her boots and answered: "Well, somebody stole them. They seem to be very expensive, after all."

She rolled her blue eyes and answered annoyed: "I also thought that, but a full week later I got a parcel with the boots from my brother."

"Interesting. That doesn't make any sense. So why exactly did you decide to come to us?" I asked.

"Today I got a letter and it said: "_Soon it's your turn._ I think my brother didn't die of a natural death, quite the contrary. I think he was killed. A good friend of mine told me that a famous Detective was living at the Bakerstreet, so I came to ask for his service. Sadly I do not have much money to pay him" She looked down on the floor and played nervously with her hands.

I looked sideway and noticed that Holmes seemed very concentrated. 'Strange, he hasn't said anything yet.' I thought, but I knew better than to disrupt his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

She told her story as I seated comfortably in my favorite chair and listened carefully. I noticed Watson's glance and didn't let it bother me.

"May I see the letter?" I asked reaching eagerly out a hand to receive the letter. It was A5 format of a normal cream white paper. The letters were written by hand with the tip of a thin royal blue ink fountain pen, very unusual to use as a warning or threat, yet classical and typical. The letters were all printed but the 'y', it was more curved than the other letters. I held the paper up to the light incase there are more secrets to discover. Secrets! This woman hasn't told the whole story; she knows a few things more. Due to her body language and the aura of caution I've felt since she entered this room.

I rose from my chair and walked to the fireplace to light a new Turkish cigarette. "Miss Marie MacClintoch, you haven't told me all the facts. If you want them cleared, then pray tell." I kept my eagerness and anger under control.

She stared at me surprised, her eyes widened. Soon she collected herself. "I assure you Mr. Holmes. I've told you everything I know and how on earth do you know my name?"

"How I know your name is not relevant at the moment. Now tell me!" I quickly took a deep draw of the cigarette and waited patiently for her response, facing her.

* * *

"My poor, wee brother, bless his soul. He was a really a nice boy, but he had bad friends. He consumed opium. He never told me that but sometimes when he came home he smelled strangely and his pupils were widened. I wonder where he got the money to smoke Opium? We are very poor and I never noticed that any money was missing", she said saddened.

I looked understandingly at her. I knew from personal encounters that opium addicted was very complicated to handle. I looked warily at Holmes. "Do you think he was participating in a shady business?", I wondered aloud.

She whispered: "It might be. I just do not understand why they took his boots from him and gave them to me, just to threaten me. Why did they not keep the boots? They are expensive, but that is it!"

I hope Sherlock would shed some light into this intriguing case.

* * *

I was beginning to wonder if some drug such as opium had its role in all this. From Watson's glance I knew his concern for me and without a doubt would do his best to prevent me in the near future from visiting an opium house. "These bad friends from your brother, how did they treat to him?" I questioned calmly and clapped my hands together before my lips.

"Well, they weren't the kindest but also not the roughest from what I heard. They appreciated him." Marie responded.

"Do these fellow meet regularly, if yes where?"

"At the Red Apple Pub down Victoria Street where I work as a barmaid."

"At which time?"

"Everyday 9 o'clock in the evening sharp."

Thank you for your trust Miss MacClintoch. I shall investigate this intriguing case of yours with the greatest pleasure and there is no requirement needed for a payment."

"Are you sure? I do have some small amount ready to pay when the case is clear or for a free round drink."

"We can discuss that matter when the case is cleared Miss MacClintoch." I smiled to her generosity and held open the door for her. As she left without another word and I closed the door. I leaned against the door and smiled to Watson. "Now what do you think of that?"

* * *

"This is a very interesting case, but I am really worried, Holmes", I told him, while I was standing up and walking towards him. His piercing blue eyes were looking straight at me and I had a feeling that he was analyzing my every words and movements. This made me very uncomfortable, so I squirmed under his look. I decided it was not the time to feel awkward around my long time companion and went on: "I am sure that you are going to investigate this opium gang and this does not please me at all, Holmes. Do you not remember the last time? I had to drag you to a bloody hospital, for god's sake! I was worried. You do not understand what…never mind!" I think it is the right moment to take a hastily retreat. I started to walk past Holmes and hoped that my friend had not noticed my change of topic. Who am I joking!

* * *

As Watson gave up discussing with me about his concern of my health, I noted. "It was only once Watson. After all who said here anything of smoking opium? It is all part of the case. My dear Watson, in order to soothe those nerves of yours today and bring to a different topic, shall we not head for an early super to the Red Apple Pub?" I leaned an arm over his shoulder and grinned to my own excitement.


	4. Chapter 4

I looked at the Swiss clock that hung on the wall. It is seven o'clock sharp. We still have a lot of time to discuss the true issue. I know that as soon as Holmes begins to investigate the case, there is no way to hold him back. I need to discuss the true issue know! Because I do not want to see the same thing happen to him. Suddenly I find myself remembering the long forgotten past. I stumbled a few steps back and put a hand on my head. I feel Holmes' worried look upon me, but I am so submerged by the memory that I didn't care.

"I was ten years old and my mother was dancing with me. She had a huge smile plastered all over her face and we were spinning around the small kitchen. Mother was smiling less and less, that is why I was so happy when she stumbled in the kitchen and danced with me and we laughed. She told me she was a phoenix and she was soring through the sky. She told me she felt the wind through her feathers. I did not really understand what she meant because obviously she was not a bird. Perhaps this was a new game. Mother, never played with me, so I did not want to complain. My head was spinning and suddenly she let go of my hands. I stumbled over my feet and fell onto the wooden floor. My mother was swaying and suddenly she went rigid. Her eyes turned upwards and she dropped to the floor. I laughed at her silly attempted of a joke, if I had known… I crawled towards her and shook her shoulders, but she did not give any sign of waking up. "Mother, come on. It is not funny! Mother? Mom?", I asked worriedly. "Mommy!", I shouted when I realised she was not breathing", I thought. What I did not realise was that I was so out of it that I was speaking aloud. Suddenly, it was not my mother on the floor, but Holmes. His once focused blue eyes were glassed over. "No, Holmes! Was it my fault?" I stumbled again and took hold of the armchair. My whole body was shaking. I dropped on the chair and went almost completely limp. Why does this whole thing still hunt me!

* * *

I remained silent for a moment. I knew he lost his mother at a young age. That he lost his mother through drugs was not my suspicion. That explains the way he speaks in his sleep when he takes a nap on the couch, not always but sometimes he cries out for his mother like a child.

"My sincere apologies Watson, I hadn't realised. I'm afraid in this case it is inevitable but nevertheless do remind me at times if I tend to go too far. Now, why don't we grab our hats and take a good look upon the case." I spoke lightly concerned and headed to my room for coat and bowler hat.

* * *

I blinked a few times surprised, had I told him everything about my mother without realizing it? It seems like it. I never told him about my mother's cause of death because I feared he would laugh about the guilt I felt. I could not save her at that time that is why I wanted to become a doctor. Still, when someone I know takes drugs like opium I tend to get slightly overprotective. I am amazed that Sherlock wasn't annoyed about the mistrust I felt against him. I insulted him and he did not even try to defend himself. He even said I could tell him when he goes to far. Holmes deeply cares for me and I am very thankful for that. A short time later Holmes arrived dressed to go out. In his left hand he held my coat and my melon hat. I forced myself to stand up, smile thankfully at him and took my hat. "I need to apologize, my dear friend. My protectiveness went definitely too far. I should have known that I can trust you. I am truly sorry. I am not a good friend, old fellow", I explain while smiling warily.


	5. Chapter 5

I only nodded to his apology and smiled friendly. Once outside the autumn sun was slowly setting beyond the horizon. Nearly around every corner the street lanterns were freshly lit and many people tucked their hats and scarfs tighter for warmth. We walked peacefully to Victoria Street and found without difficulty the Red Apple Pub. It looked like any pub with a bright blood red apple out of wood as a sign. The door jingled due to the positioned bell above the door when a customer entered or left. The interior design was rather rustically with solid oiled oak. The scents of ale and potato soup were hardly to be missed in the air. Few costumers sat at the bar with their glass of ale or gin while others sat at a table and had their soup. At the fireplace the fire was alit, providing the marvelous warmth. At the bar I noticed Miss MacClintoch. She gave a nod to me and I nodded back.

As we took a seat at a table she came to us. "Well, good of you to come. You're a bit early but while you wait would you care for some ale and soup?"

"Why not on a cold day like this?." I responded neutrally like a normal costumer.

"Very well." She gave and walked into the kitchen.

* * *

I looked around the pub and tried to see something unusual, a reason why they always met at this particular pub but I couldn't find any. This pub was like any normal pub. Strange? The jingling of the door interrupted my train of thoughts. Inconspicuously I looked at the new guests. Seven men came in and walked to a reserved table. Marie ran to their table and took their order; the pencil she was holding was trembling slightly. Were these the so-called friends of her dead brother? When she left she nodded slightly towards us and I knew I was right. The men were sitting in a dark corner and whispering conspicuously among themself. Alas I could not understand what they were talking about because of the music group that was playing in the background. Perhaps that's why they chose this pub, because it is so noisy in here. I asked Holmes: "What shall we do now? We won't learn anything important like this!"

* * *

"All in good time Watson. All in good time." I spoke softly to Watson. A good thing that a table was free by the window and that the gang sits directly opposite of us. Thus I was able to detect peacefully at the reflection of the window. All seven of them were young, due to the physical building they could be between 20 and 25 years of age. Some had a thin moustache while others were clean-shaven. The clothing's were simple, tweed jackets, wool knitted newsboy caps, and long corduroy trousers in nut-brown. Due to the grease smudges on some trousers, some work in a factory with mechanics, actually all of them. All but one, one was totally clean by the clothes. Including his face, clean-shaven. Particularly he sat in the middle. Presumably the superior of the gang and only he threw multiple times a suspicious glance towards us. Soon Miss MacClintoch arrived with the ale and soup; briefly she tucked a noted under my pint of ale and left without a word.

I handed the note without unfolding it to Watson.


	6. Chapter 6

Eagerly I unfolded the note. It was another threat message. It said that her time was almost up. When the full moon has past, she will be long gone.

I shivered slightly. The full moon was tomorrow, so we have to hurry or something terrible will happen. I handed the note to Holmes who was drinking from his ale. He took it and put it in his pocket without sparring a glance at it. I drank from my ale and ate a bit of my soup. The time was passing and nothing intriguing seemed to happen. The seven men were still discussing whatever issue they had and Holmes was sipping his ale.

Suddenly black points started to dance before my eyes and it seemed the whole room was spinning. What is going on? I heavily leaned on Holmes and my eyes felt so heavy. I really wanted to sleep. Through my hazy eyes I understood that I was drugged, but from what and whom? The only person who could have done that was… Oh no! I sincerely hope my companion did not fall into the same foolish trap. I could not keep my eyes open and the last thing I heard was Holmes concerned voice.

* * *

"John!" I whispered eagerly, gently shaking his shoulder. It was no use. I only drank the pint of ale and somehow I am not drugged. It must be in the soup. Briefly I looked up to the reflection of the window, the superior began to smile broadly with a hint of evil. He must have connection with MacClintoch in order to drug the soup! Or worse with every staff of this pub, I knew MacClintoch was holding some secret away from me. I should have been more harshly to her but my damned eagerness for another case, to liberate myself from the boredom! I bit my tongue in shame. I threw a short glance to the bar; MacClintoch was nowhere to be seen. Actually I had planed on acting a drunkard to receive more information of the gang, but with Watson drugged that changes everything. I shall act as if being drugged too. I took half a spoon to my mouth, besides the potato and spices there was a hint of Valeria for the endurance and some other drug that I could not lay my finger on. Briefly while pretending to blow my nose I stained ever so slightly my handkerchief with the soup to analyze once in safety. Thankfully to the small amount of soup in my mouth the drug only made me feel relaxed. Soon I acted along, sleeping on the table.

"Alright gents it's time to take the luggage." Spoke a man what I perceive was the superior of the gang. Suddenly warm strong hands half carried me off the table and of the pub. Quickly I pretended to be drugged and have opened my eyes for a brief moment with a fatigued moan. They are carrying Watson and me down the Victoria Street in the direction of the Thames to the Westminster Bridge. I wonder where they will bring us? Suddenly I was swung onto the carriage. Lying upon sacks of wheat due to the smell. There were more scents in the air, that of the gang the mechanic oil and grease and of the coach driver the alcohol.

"What have you planed with these two men, Jack?"

"Making a few things clear. Cutting loose ends."

"What? Also sweet Marie?"

"Aye, also sweet Marie. She is just as smart as her little brother was and quick to the moves. Indeed we did warn her to stay out of it but unfortunately she didn't pay heed to it."

Thankfully to their silence afterwards, I was able to deduce by the sounds around me in which direction we are heading. As the carriage halted I heard in the distance clearly a train, if my geographical calculations are correct we could be close to the London and Southwark Bridge. The laughs of seagulls were clearly heard nearby and the foul scent of dried seaweed on the banks of the Thames. I was lifted by two men off the carriage and further. Directly under a bridge I heard a mechanical switch moved and the hinges creaking of a metallic door opened. Immediately the scent changed from seaweed to metal, oil and grease. Somewhere above us I heard the train this time closer than before. The floor sounded firm and stone a like, due the sounds of the shoes of the gang. "Here's a good place to dump them till the drug's worn off." Demanded a man.

Once they were out of earshot, I dared to peek. They were clearly out of sight too. Quickly I stretched my arms and looked around me. Watson was still unconscious. We are right under the London Bridge train station! I shook gently Watson's shoulder, slowly in time he moaned fatigued and soon came to his senses.

* * *

Through the heavy mist I believe to hear a voice. The voice sounded familiar, but I could not lay a finger upon it. Slowly I opened my eyes and closed them again, because the dim lights are giving me a headache. The voice seems to get louder and I realized that Holmes is calling my name vigorously. I forced myself to open my eyes and looked around the dimly lit room. I'm leaning against a humid wall covered in moss. "Where in the Queen's name are we and what happened?" I asked aloud. The last thing I remember was that I was sitting in a pub, after that I draw blank. Strange. Holmes looked like he wanted to answer my question. Suddenly the floor began to shake. 'A bloody earthquake?' I hear a loud rattling over my head of wheels, followed by a loud whistle of a train. 'Are we near a train station?'


	7. Chapter 7

I was eager answering his question but a train began to move, so I explained everything I knew once the loud sound had calmed down in the distance. I gave it as short as possible with a soft voice incase the others would appear again. I told Watson firmly to keep his voice soft too. I was astounded how helpless Watson reacted and appeared from his drugged slumber.

Suddenly loud laughter of men was heard in the distance and footsteps of solid leathered shoes grew louder. Are they coming for us? So soon? I stared at the small stoned corridor before us.

Two young men walked towards us. "Slept well?" One of them wondered to us with a smile.

I said nothing.

* * *

I did not need to be a detective to find out that these fellows meant trouble.

I stared at them blankly and asked "Seriously?"

"Why so sassy?", asked the teen annoyed. I noticed he had a heavy French accent. "Well, you're just a teen and already you are in so much trouble. Come on boy, free us and we won't tell Scotland Yard who you are working for if you promise to start a honest life. It's not too late. You didn't do anything wrong yet." I saw the boy hesitating and thought I actually accomplished something with my talk. His companion was not as easy to convince. He stepped forward and kicked me into my stomach. I sag on the floor; while I heard him shouting "Shut up, you worthless scum!" Clearly, he was the leader. Well, I hope Holmes has a plan or I fear for our safety.

* * *

I did not say a word but helped Watson to his feet and decided to obey those young lads. One thing can be assured; one has a bad temper and is perhaps not so foolish as the others. The lad who kicked Watson led us ahead, always throwing quick glances over his shoulder while the other followed behind us. Slowly while walking I removed my coat casually.

"Prepare to attack in front of you." I whispered to Watson briefly.

Quickly I pretended to trip. "Oh! My bad." I called out and threw the coat rapidly over the lad behind us. Covering his head and bound his arms with the sleeves of my coat.

* * *

When I heard Sherlock tell me to prepare to fight I had my doubt that I would be of any help. My head was still spinning and it felt like my head was going to explode. It did not help either that my stomach hurt like hell because some bloody sod just kicked me in the gut. Well, I really had not any other choice than to go with Holmes' plan if I wanted to leave, so I complied. As soon as the fellow with the French accent was tied up, I hit the other fellow square in the jaw.

The fellow's eyes widened and he stumbled backwards. Darn! Why did not this fellow go down like I expected him to? "The prisoners are trying to flee!", he cried out annoyed. I thought I could detect some amusement in his voice. Surely I was hearing things. It could not be, could it? Loud footsteps and shouting interrupted my thoughts. I knew that there was a door before us. If we could reach it in time, we had a chance. I made the most coward thing I did in a long time, even though it was necessary. I grabbed Holmes' hand and said "Come on, we need to get out of here right now!"

He nodded. We ran past the fellow who was to dumbfounded to react and we drew nearer and nearer of the door. Some odd feeling of dread made me look back and I saw how the idiotic lad from before was pointing a weapon towards Holmes. Without thinking I pushed Holmes out of harm's way, while at the same time I heard a gun shot. Hot, burning pain spread through my right shoulder, but I ignored it. Holmes opened the door and we ran.

Afterwards everything was a blur. I do not really remember were we run to, even though I thought I heard the sea.

Suddenly Holmes stopped to recover. I stopped running and the pain got even worse. "H-Holmes, I think I need…help…" I felt my knees buckling and fell straight to the ground. Afterwards there was just pitch black, welcoming the darkness. I am so tired.

* * *

"Watson!" I cried out trying to get hold of him from falling. Once he was on the ground he was unconscious. Warm blood oozed from the shot wound on his right shoulder. Quickly I looked behind his shoulder to see if the wound went through. It did not. Rapidly I removed my scarf and tied Watson's shoulder and arm in the position I remember how Watson would have done it. I spoke at times to Watson, hoping he might hear me at least. Explaining what I have done now to his wound and what am I going to do next. I should I leave him here? No! That is out of the question! Watson needs help!

Suddenly I heard shouts of men coming closer. Few of the voices sounded familiar. Quickly I looked around my surroundings, where can I hide? Suddenly an idea came to my head, I looked up. Alas the bridge is too high to climb and then attack the men. Suddenly something blunt met at my spine, below the shoulders. Slowly I raised my hands.

"That's right Sherlock Holmes. Now nice an' easy you turn around." Spoke a man.

I obeyed, luckily the pistol faced in front of me now. Quick-witted I gave a karate hit at the man's arm with the pistol. The man cried out in agony while I took pistol and aimed at him. Immediately he raised his arms like a good lad. His expression was fear, staring at the pistol.

"Please don't kill me." He begged.

Impressive how a man can change when things are out of hand, so to speak. "Remove your clothes."

"What?"

"Do it!" I gave sternly and stepped closer.

Immediately the man removed his clothes, I wore on his and he wore mine. Everything was to the measure about similar except for the shoes, yet who takes a closer look upon one's shoes? I still had the pistol aimed at the man. Voices grew louder. They are coming closer. "Stay there." I demanded.

"Hey George! You got him?" Called one of the men.

I quickly faced behind me. Many men were in sight. "Now run." I demanded to the man before me. He set off like a fast train.

"Oi! That's Sherlock! Get him!" Called the man behind me.

"You get him! I'll take care of his friend here." I called with a slightly deeper voice like George. For once I was thankful to wear a cap for disguise rather than keeping my head warm. The man ran past me and few men followed him. Only one stayed with Watson and me.

"Come on, let's bring him in." Gave the man, taking Watson at his feet. Quickly I held up Watson and we walked back into the tunnel.

"Where shall we put 'im?" I asked.

"The second door to your left." Noted the man, his voice sounded familiar.

As instructed we came into a room filled with jute sacks, filled with some content I could not deduce with my bare eyes. Due to the smell in air, it was guaranteed not rice or coffee. What surprised me more was seeing Miss McClintoch unconscious on the floor!

Quite roughly we placed Watson onto the ground. Suddenly a familiar clicking sound came from the man. I looked up slowly.

A pistol was pointed at me. "Now slowly get up, Mr. Holmes." Demanded the man.

I rose up slowly as instructed and raised my hands.

* * *

Noises came from far away, but I could not quite understand what they were saying. My whole body hurt and I had a feeling something strange was stuck into my body. What? Suddenly I felt fear but strangely it was not for me. I feared for someone's safety. I quickly opened my eyes and shouted, "Are you hurt?" Everything was blurry so I had to close my eyes again. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, but instead to lose myself into unconsciousness again I opened my eyes. I realised that two men were looking at me surprised. I asked again "Is he hurt?" Still, both fellows were just staring at me. What in the Queen's name is going on and why is one man pointing a weapon towards the other man? "What have you done to him?" Suddenly I realised something. Who was 'him'? I tried to remember, but I just could not. Why was I here and where was I to begin with? And most importantly, who was I? I do not understand it. I am completely lost! "Who are you two lads and why am I here?" The fellow with the weapon looked at me surprised, curious and suspicious at the same time. The other lad looked at me and I thought I could see deep pain in his eyes. "I do not get it. Please someone help me! Who can I trust?"

* * *

Watson! He has amnesia! Due to the shock and pain he is in!

"You will know all in good time. All in good time." Explained the man to Watson while still pointing a pistol to me. "As for you Mr. Holmes, my voice sound most familiar to you, does it?"

I agree.

"The name's Jack and I know you've been acting drugged then in the pub. A spoon won't suffice to become drugged like your friend here. Now, do you know why and your friend are here?"

"Because we dared to take a look into your business? Dared to aid Miss McClintoch and came to the pub?"

"There's no mistake in that but you had intention of winning information from me personally, information that is none of your concern. Sadly it costs you and your friend's life just Miss McClintoch and her brother." Explained Jack.

Watson turned facing back and forth to Jack and me. Deciding whom to trust.

"Therefore before you and your friend die, I'll tell you the information. Do you know what is in the sacks?"

"All I can say is, it isn't rice or coffee."

"Correct." Gave Jack and moved closer to a sack and opened it.

I whole roasted coffee beans; soon Jack's hand dove into the beans and soon appeared another smaller sack. He opened it, it held some white powder. "This is not sugar or salt Mr. Holmes. Something you know of personally, I believe." Jack smiled devilishly.

"Cocaine." I whispered.

"Too right you are. After all, you are always right. Then I wonder, why are you here under my command?"

"Excellent question." I noted and realised that Miss McClintoch is still alive. She gave a wink to me and then closed her eyes again. What is she up to? Watson looked at me confused; hopefully the amnesia is wearing off soon. It must have been the combination between the drug and his own adrenalin that caused this! Jack believes that it is all a conjuring trick. Why do not I play along? Not that of Watson because Jack doubts that.

"Whom can I trust?" Asked Watson again confused.

"Stop that and come quick to your senses! Or your question will be answered with holes." Threated Jack, pointing the pistol to Watson.

Now is my chance! Rapidly I took hold Jack's pistol and held it up to the ceiling.

Jack grunted of surprise and pulled a few times the trigger. The bullets whizzed off to different directions, bruising the metal and stones with a not failingly pinching sound. "This is a trick! Men! Over here!" Called Jack surprised.

Before he could call for more help, I gave a quick haymaker punch to the stomach and when he bends to hug his stomach, I gave another firm fist to the temple. From his face, Jack was already knocked-out before he hit the ground. Running feet were heard not far and coming closer by the moment.

Quickly I handed the pistol to Watson. "Take this and fire when I tell you to. It depends on your life if you fire too soon or too late. Do you understand?" I instructed Watson, looking into his eyes. Hoping to see the old Watson I have always known.

Quickly I took Marie McClintoch's hand. She looked up. "What happened?"

"No time to explain. Do you have a weapon at hand?" I asked.

Quickly from Miss McClintoch's boots she drew out two daggers.

"Daggers?" I gave doubtfully.

She nodded. "Old but still useful. My father taught brother and me how to use them."

"Family tradition?" I noted.

"You could say that." Gave Marie McClintoch.


	8. Chapter 8

This whole situation kept getting weirder and weirder. This fellow, who I gathered was named Jack always referred to the other lad as my friend. I looked very closely at the man. He had piercing blue eyes and sharp features. He oddly reminded me of a bird, but that was it. I could not place this face. I had no idea who he was! Well, the other person did not seem really trustworthy, so for now I am going to stick with Birdy. The conversation got more heated. I noticed that the woman next to me was giving a sign to Holmes so I assumed she was with us. Was she my wife or his girlfriend? I do not know! Jack took a bag out of the coffee beans and I realised it was a drug. Darn! How did I get into this messed up situation? I hope I am not a drug dealer or something like that! "Who can I trust?" I whispered again. I had some idea but it was really difficult to know if I was doing the right thing. If I did not even know myself! Jack threatened me and I decided to keep my mouth shut because I want to live, thank you very much! I am no doctor, I think, but I am pretty sure that I lost a lot of blood and need a doctor.

Birdy attacked the man and I instinctively jumped onto my feet. The whole room was spinning and I had to lean against the wall not to fall. When I heard the shot I saw a younger version of myself on a battlefield. I was wearing military gears and I was fighting. Suddenly there was a loud shot and saw how the younger version of myself sagged down on the floor. Instead to die on the floor I tried to crawl back to my camp and was aided there. I came to my senses. Hang on a second! Was I in the military? Before I could think more about it, Birdy gave me a pistol and said I had to shoot at the right time. I wanted to tell him that I never used a weapon in my entire life but I thought back to my flashback. I was in the army for god sake! I surely know how to use a pistol. I took it from Birdy and ignored how his piercing blue eyes were starring into my eyes as if he was trying to read my soul. The woman took some knives out and more fellows came into the room. I looked at Birdy and as soon as he attacked them I started to shoot. Hopefully I would not get arrested for killing people! The fight did not go extremely long and soon we were the only three standing. "Look fellows, I do not know what we need to do know and what our relationship is but I need to see a doctor, right know." I looked expectedly at Birdy because he seemed like the leader.

* * *

Were my ears deceiving me? For a brief moment I stared in disbelieve at Watson.

Watson blinked, "What is it?" He asked.

He REALLY has amnesia that bad? "You suppose to be a doctor, Doctor John Watson." I responded slowly.

"What's matter with Watson?" Asked Marie McClintoch.

"Amnesia." I answered with clenched teeth.

"What? Literally?" She wondered.

"No figuratively, he is just acting. Yes literally!" I shouted at her. "Now it would be best to get to the nearest police station and report about this. We can't do this on our own."

"Why not? Watson has the pistol and us with daggers." Recalled Marie McClintoch.

"Why not? Because Watson here is loosing blood as we speak." I explained and was a hair close to explode in anger to Miss McClintoch's ruthlessness. Usually I only get annoyed by Watson or Lestrade, yet somehow Miss McClintoch brings me to the roof at the moment! Perhaps it is all a part of the shock what Watson would mention if he had not amnesia at the moment. Quickly I went over to Watson and helped him up to his feet, taking an arm over my shoulder to support. "Ladies first Miss McClintoch, scout ahead if there are further dangers on our way to the next police station." I demanded. With an angered expression Marie McClintoch went ahead with her daggers at hand.

* * *

I do not reckon how long we kept running, but suddenly I saw a two-store building with a big sign on it, which stated "Police Station." I hoped they had a doctor in this building, because I don't know how long I have, until I lose consciousness again. We entered the building and I was greeted with a typing noise and beeping. Some people were typing on a typing machine. We got stopped in the entering hall, when a short, lean man shouted: "Holmes, in heaven's name, what are you doing here?" So this fellow knew birdy too, it seems. "Doctor Watson, it's nice to see you again. What were you up lately. I haven't heard from you for a while." I drew a blank. Well, this is awkward. Who is this fellow? Perhaps he works here? "I am sorry, mate. I don't have the slightest idea who you are?"-"Pardon me?", he asked surprised. I looked helplessly at Birdy hoping he would help me in this dear situation.

* * *

Watson and Lestrade stared at me. Why do I always have to be the one with the answers? I sighed. "Watson is suffering under amnesia."

"Amnesia! How's that possible?"

"Oh, in multiple ways you can think of; in this case as you can see inevitably the blood by shock." I explained annoyed. Typical Lestrade, always overseeing the obvious. "Miss McClintoch, explain Lestrade the situation and lead them to the secret tunnel while I bring Watson to the nearest hospital."

McClintoch nodded to my demand and began to explain while I helped Watson out. Once outside I called out for a cab and soon we were heading to the nearest hospital. I looked closer at Watson's wound, he has lost a lot of blood; hopefully he will hold it through till we are at the nearest hospital.

Suddenly the cab halted, I looked around. There was nowhere near a hospital or a blockage on the street.

"This is where you get off, Sherlock Holmes." Spoke the driver coldly.

From another street approached a different cab. "Please step in Mr. Holmes, you have an appointment with a well known friend."

"I won't step in until Watson is at a hospital." I remarked.

"Fine." Gave the second driver angered.

The cab rolled on and halted soon in front of a hospital. Quickly and carefully I helped Watson. "Watson, take care of yourself." I whispered and let the nurse help Watson. I looked how Watson was taken care of in save hands. Soon I stepped on the cab that would bring me to a known friend, whom I presume none other than leader of the group, Jack.

* * *

I had lost so much blood that I heard a buzzing noise in my ears and I was leaning heavily on Holmes' shoulder, because the entire cab was spinning. I didn't really understand what was going on, but suddenly the cab came to a halt and Birdy tensed up and said something to a driver. Soon we stopped again and

Birdy helped me out of the cab. The staff that was smoking in front of the building saw me and ran up to me. It seems like I was looking same as worse that I felt. I heard Birdy's parting words and suddenly I was overcome with a very bad feeling. It spread through my stomach and I knew something was wrong. Why did he suddenly leave me behind? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. I tried to grab Birdy's coat, but my arms felt too heavy, so I couldn't lift it. I tried to get away from the nurses, but they held me firmly in place and suddenly something stung me. In a rare moment of clarity everything came back. I knew who I was and most importantly who Birdy really was. My eyes got heavier and I murmured: "Holmes!" After that everything went black.

I woke up in a white, sterile room, which smelled like disinfection medicine. Someone had treated my wounds and put a bandage over it. Truth to be told the wound was still hurting me. My eyes wandered through the bare room, but except a vacant chair the room was empty. Dread overcame me and I hurriedly sat up. I felt a sharp pain, but ignored it. Where is Holmes? Why did he suddenly leave me behind? I tried to calm myself and think rationally, like Holmes would have. Normally Holmes would have stayed with me even if there was a case. The only logical explanation is that he was kidnapped. But where to? Slowly I stood up and happily realised that I could stand on my own. I looked for my clothes, changed and silently left the room. I have to help Holmes! I left the building without much trouble and looked around. Where did he go too? I decided to ask the nurses. Perhaps they saw something. I went to a blond nurse and asked "I am sorry to bother you, mam' but could you spare me a moment?" She looked at me and I saw recognition on her face "Aren't you the person who was shot yesterday? You should stay in bed!"-"No, this was my twin. I work for Scotland Yard and I have a question." She nodded, but looked at me skeptically. Blimey! She must have seen the hole in my clothes. Well… "Do you know where the cab that brought me here went?", I asked hopefully. "No, I didn't." I looked crestfallen at her and she sighed. "…but I saw it's plate number. It was APTX 4869."-"Thank you so much. I'm going to ask the cab business, you helped me very much" Hurriedly I left the hospital to find my good friend Holmes, not Birdy.

* * *

What I noticed oddly about this cab is, all the windows are covered. Their hopes would be in vain if they wanted me to lose orientation. I can still hear. So I kept an eye upon my watch and listened carefully what I heard. The drive was not very long as I expected. As the driver opened the door for me to step out, a strong scent of seawater, seaweed and coal stung my nostrils. The unmistakable smell of the London harbor.

"Right this way Mr. Holmes." Pointed the driver coldly to the deck of a small steam ship. On the heck I noticed the name "Basil" which is a very uncommon name for a small ship. Once upon the deck two men led me down the hatch further to the hold in a closed dark room. I scented clearly the grease again. The damnable mistake I fell for! It was not the grease from the trains; it is from here!

"Have a seat Holmes." Spoke a composed voice that sounded too familiar to my ears and slightly disliked to hear. A familiar face moved closer to the petrol lamp, my brother Mycroft. I blinked for a brief moment in disbelieve. My brother is not the sort of man to meddle with young men and above all with morphine! Thanks to his twitching smile, I was assured that he only acted along. Yet I wonder why? "You aren't Jack." I noted and acted idiotic, on purpose.

"Correct, Mr. Holmes. There are few things that need to straightened between you and me." Remarked Jack coldly and stepped into the light in front of me.

* * *

I arrived at the fourth taxi busyness in London. Up until now there wasn't any cab with this plate. Slowly desperation came over me. I was panting heavily and my wound was burning like hell. I couldn't keep this up for long. If I don't find the mentioned cab in this business I have to call Scotland Yard, even though Holmes despises them. My shoulder sagged, while I thought: 'Would he be disappointed with me?' I sighed and entered the shop. An elderly man with baldhead greeted me and asked: "Mister, do you need a taxi?" I denied and explained: "No, I'm looking for a taxi with the plate number APTX 4869. Do you have a taxi like this?" The bald man's eyes became big like plates and he told me: "Yes, we have. This is Bobby's taxi. Why do you ask?" I tried not to show my excitement too much and explained: "My name is John Watson and I lost my…Passport. That day I was ridding this taxi and I wanted to know if you found it." The man squinted his eyes and asked skeptically: "You are the famous Doctor John Watson?" "Well, yes." Suddenly I realized something, took my gun out and pointed it at him. The man held his hands up and blanched visibly. "How do you know my profession? I never told you this." "L-Let me explain. I received a telegram and I was told to give it to a certain Doctor John Watson. Let me reach into my pocket." I nodded and when I received the telegram I dropped my gun. Does the kidnapper want money or why did they leave this telegram? There is just one way to know. I need to read the telegram. I open the envelope and read.

* * *

_Dear Dr. John Watson - STOP_

_Rest assured that Holmes is safe when you read this letter - STOP_

_I have taken the liberty to assist this special case – STOP_

_Met me as soon you have read this telegram at the Diogenes Club -STOP_

* * *

"You owe me Mr. Holmes." Snarled Jack angered while kneading his right fist.

"Patience Jack, you get want you want from him soon one way or another. Now please leave while I'll bring him to his clearer senses." Grinned Mycroft walked up to me and gave a pat on the shoulder. Suddenly pushing me slightly down. It must be a part of his acting! Fine, I will act along. Immediately I winced and removed his hand.

Jack gave a mocking loud laughter as he walked out the room.

"So you came this far in the case." Noted Mycroft with a slight mocking grin while lighting a cigar.

"Due to your mocking smile I deduce that you have solved the case already."

"Oh, and you are out of clues?"

I did not respond but clenched my teeth and balled my fists.

Mycroft scoffed. "You were always the thickheaded one in the family."

"Enough with this and come to the point; why do you want to meddle this case?"

"The same reason like you, why taking up this case and all of the above it is special, no? With the shoes and narcotic smugglers teasing you with false clues and facts. So far their plan has run smoothingly so far. They want you dead." Mycroft paused. "Testing their power against you."

"Who is all behind this?"

"It is a long chain of commands. All I have gathered so far it is a rich person close related to the royal family."


End file.
